


Silver-Tongued Devil

by RadiantSeraphina (Lady_Arrowwood)



Category: Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!, Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romantic Comedy, blue and orange morality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 15:24:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15933200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Arrowwood/pseuds/RadiantSeraphina
Summary: Customer Service is a door-to-door salesman. It's supposed to be a boring job to make ends meet, but now, he's being followed by an eldritch nightmare wizard who won't stop until Customer Service agrees to join some bizarre, monster-renting start-up project.





	Silver-Tongued Devil

**Author's Note:**

> For That Person Who Shall Not Be Named.

Customer Service straightened his tie once more. The tie was already perfect, of course, but Customer Service had developed a nervous habit of toying with it. And he was nervous frequently. One of the hazards of being a door-to-door salesman was that you never knew who or what you would find on the other side of a potential customer’s door, but Customer Service was incredibly good at adapting to awkward situations. This, of course, meant that his sales were great, and if a product was selling poorly, he would—inevitably—be tasked with selling it.

 

He’d sold everything. Of all the absurd products for him to be tasked with selling, this was the absolute worst. How on Nova’s green Pop Star was Customer Service supposed to sell plastic, meat-tearing claws? Especially after his coworkers had already went through most of the town’s houses. All except for the creepy house at the very edge of town.

 

Customer Service crossed his arms and gazed at the house. It was massive and ramshackle, equal parts beautiful and frightening. The people in town whispered that an evil wizard lived in the house, creating experiments and casting spells of the purest evil.

 

But Customer Service knew something of evil. He had heard whispers of the things his creators had done in the name of progress and machines. There, he’d been CS-3556, Customer Service, whose only purpose was to sell things, and after he’d managed to leave—which very few people ever did—his dreams for personal success and glory had been shattered. His job put food on the table but little more.

 

Customer Service grabbed his briefcase and walked up the crooked, broken sidewalk to the house. Then, he ambled up the creaky, broken steps and pounded his fist on the tall, wooden door. With a frown, Customer Service looked around. The weather seemed to have dropped at least ten degrees.

 

The door creaked open. There was no one there. Then, Customer Service looked down. A tiny, dark blue puffball with an absurdly small pair of bat-like wings stood in the doorway. “Poyo?”

 

Customer Service arched an eyebrow. “Are your parents home?” he asked.

 

The puffball toddled forward and wrapped its paws as best as it could around Customer Service.

 

“Your parents?” Customer Service insisted.

 

There was the sound of ripping cloth, and Customer Service jumped back. A piece of Customer Service’s suit hung from the puffball’s mouth.

 

“You little brat!” Customer Service snapped.

 

The puffball opened its mouth and exposed two very sharp fangs, each at least an inch long.  Customer Service started and took a step back. He had never seen a puffball with fangs before; they were usually soft creatures that lived off fruits and vegetables. They weren’t predatory except—it seemed—for this one.

 

Darkness filled the room. Something pushed Customer Service forward. He whirled around with the sound of the door slamming and locking, trapping him in the house. He might have screamed although he never would have admitted it.

 

Bursts of starlight broke the darkness, forming the shape of a man. He was skeletal and bony, his skin and features as sharp and white as aspen bark. Customer Service’s heartbeat thundered in his chest as the wizard hovered closer, his cape spreading around him as if held aloft by some unnatural wind. Galaxies and stars twisted between the flowing cape.

 

“Hello,” the wizard purred.

 

Customer Service gulped. “He—hello, Sir,” he said, scrambling for any of the persuasive skills that made him so good at selling.

 

“You seem frightened,” the wizard replied, cocking his head to one side.

 

“Ah, well, Sir—”

 

“Did he stab you?” the wizard asked.

 

“St—stab me?”

 

“Meta Knight,” the wizard replied, scooping the puffball into his arms. “My _kleine Fledermaus_. He’s such a good boy!”

 

“Bite?” the puffball asked, waving a paw at Customer Service. “Bite, Father? Bite?”

 

“No, no, Meta Knight. Don’t bite guests,” the wizard said, a hint of danger in his voice, “Unless, of course, we decide we don’t like them.”

 

“I—I—can go,” Customer Service stammered. “I’m a door-to-door salesman, and I’m sure—”

 

The wizard brightened. “Oh! Interesting,” he said. “I apologize. I have not properly introduced myself. I am the Nightmare Wizard!”

 

The wizard said it with an excessive amount of drama, so much that Customer Service wondered if Nightmare had actively rehearsed his introduction.

 

“I am Customer Service.”

 

The wizard roared in laughter. “Is that your real name?” he asked.

 

Customer Service felt heat flood his face. “It’s the only name I have,” he replied. “Is your name really the Nightmare Wizard?”

 

“People who ask for my name seldom live very long,” Nightmare purred.

 

“Bite now, Father?” Meta Knight asked.

 

“No, not yet,” Nightmare said. “This salesman hasn’t told us what he’s selling yet.”

 

Seeing the opening, Customer Service whipped open his briefcase. His mind whirled as he tried to figure out a way to escape this terrible situation. There was absolutely no way this eldritch abomination and his eldritch son were going to want a set of meat-tearing claws. Customer Service just needed to think of a way to distract them until he managed to flee.

 

Customer Service pulled out the pair of meat-tearing claws, plastic clawed things that went over one’s hand and could be used to tear apart meat. They were completely useless. A fork would have done the same job, but the bosses said sell them.

 

The wizard set Meta Knight at his feet. Then, Nightmare held out one finger and slowly tapped the claws. “And what purpose do these have?” Nightmare asked.

 

“These are meat-tearing claws,” Customer Service replied. “You will be able to tear your meat with ease and feel fairly—forgive the language—badass while doing it, good Sir.”

 

“Bite, Father?” Meta Knight asked.

 

“No, no, dearest,” Nightmare replied. “I am intrigued by the thought of tearing apart meat with a pair of claws. It sounds like a delightful pastime.”

 

Unbelievable. Customer Service very consciously kept his mouth from dropping open.

 

“Yes, delightful,” Customer Service said. “It would be a wonderful pastime.”

 

“Could these also substitute as a durable and cost-effective pair of brass knuckles?” Nightmare asked.

 

“Uh...no, sir,” Customer Service replied.

 

“But they are made for tearing meat, are they not?” the wizard asked.

 

“Ah, yes,” Customer Service said, “But I fear they are too blunt to harm a living being. Sir.”

 

“A pity,” Nightmare replied.

 

“But you might derive some enjoyment from ah, physically tearing apart your meat. This makes the process thirty-percent more efficient.”

 

“Well, I _do_ like efficiency,” the wizard mused. “I’ll take eight.”

 

“E—eight?” Customer Service asked.

 

“Yes. Six for Meta and two for myself,” the wizard replied.

 

The demon-child squeaked happily and hugged the bottom of his father’s robes. Customer Service really didn’t want to know what that little, blue menace was going to do with meat-tearing claws, but Customer Service doubted it could be anything good.

 

“It’s…ah, fifty deden,” Customer Service said, “But—”

 

“Will you accept gold?” the wizard interrupted.

 

“Gold?”

 

The wizard waved his hand, and a _massive_ chunk of solid gold landed in his palm. “Will this cover it?”

 

Customer Service’s jaw dropped. “Y—yes, Sir,” he said, as the wizard dropped the gold into the salesman’s waiting hands.

 

“Perfect,” Nightmare said, grabbing a pair of the meat-tearing claws. “I’ll let you leave now.”

 

Customer Service couldn’t leave quickly enough. He might have sold those meat-tearing claws, but at what cost? The Nightmare Wizard had probably placed a curse on him, and Customer Service was going to have nightmares about that little demon-spawn for the rest of his life.

 

* * *

 

 

Nightmare stared at the pile of shredded meat before him. Then, he looked at the meat-tearing claws; he wore a pair on his hands. Meta Knight wore a pair on his paws and held another one between his teeth.

 

“I can’t believe I bought this!” Nightmare exclaimed. “The same job could easily be performed with a fork!”

 

Meta Knight’s words were muffled by the claws held in his mouth.

 

“I can’t believe I let that salesman convince me I needed these,” Nightmare said, crossing his arms. “What a waste of gold.”

 

A pause. Nightmare rubbed a hand over his chin. Slowly, the realization sank in. Nightmare had been contemplating starting his own company, one for renting some of his magical creations, for a very long time. The problem was that Nightmare wasn’t much of a businessman, but that Customer Service fellow…

 

“Meta Knight,” Nightmare said, “I’ve just had the best idea.”

 

A muffled reply from his child.

 

Nightmare grinned. “I must have that silver-tongued devil!” he declared, scooping Meta Knight into his arms. “Let’s go haunt the man’s dreams, my dearest!”

 

 


End file.
